Dead in a Ditch
by Heathglen
Summary: On their way back to camp from Seoul, Hawkeye and Trapper are pinned down by snipers. Trapper is shot and Hawkeye needs to find a way out before his friend bleeds to death. Now with improved ending!
1. Chapter 1

"Why would you do this to me? I thought we were friends!" Hawkeye slumped in the passenger seat of the jeep has it bounced along the rutted dirt road heading from Seoul back to the 4077th. His arms were crossed in a pout and his eyes glared at the passing Korean hill side, refusing to look at Trapper next to him in the driver's seat. "That nurse was putty in my hand. I have never felt skin so soft. I could have gazed into those eyes for the rest of my life."

"Yeah well, the rest of your life would have been about 10 minutes long if I hadn't pulled you out of that bar." Trapper strong-armed the jeep's stiff steering to try and avoid the worst of the ruts and holes in the road. "While you were busy gazing in her eyes, you didn't see her G.I. boyfriend coming down the street with four of his buddies ready to pull your spine out through your navel. "

"Anatomically impossible."

"You should be thanking me. You'd be dead if it wasn't for me. You owe me."

Hawkeye groaned and put his head in his hands. "And what a sweet death it would have been, Trapper. To spend my last moments with that pale skinned angel. A man could never hope for better."

"She was a soft eight at best."

"I should punch you in the mouth for such blaspheme."

"Later. It's dangerous to drive punch-drunk."

The jeep rolled over a large rock then bounded through a deep rut. Hawkeye had to grab the dashboard to keep from being thrown out of his seat.

"Are you sure you're not drunk already? I don't want to be saved from death by G.I. Joe only to succumb to death by G.I. Jeep."

"Layoff. You're welcome to drive if you think can handle this goat track any better."

"Nah. If I drove I'd kill us for sure."

"Besides, I'd like to get back to camp as fast as possible. It's getting late I don't relish the idea of having to drive on this road-of-certain-death in the dark."

"Well, I think—" Hawkeye didn't get to finish his thought as the glass in the jeep's windshield suddenly exploded all over them.

"What the hell?" yelled Trapper, slamming on the brakes. The jeep's front tire blew with a loud bang as it skidded to a stop.

For a moment the two men sat and stared at each other in silent confusion. A shot rang out and a bullet hole appeared in the hood of the vehicle.

"Snipers!"

The pair scrambled from the jeep and sprinted for cover in a stand of stunted trees near the road. Puffs of dirt exploded around their feet as the sound of rapid gunfire chased them.

"Over here!" Trapper grabbed Hawkeye's arm and veered him to the left. Together they tumbled down into a ditch.

Hawkeye untangled himself from Trapper and crawled on his belly back up the side of the ditch, trying to see over the over the top without actually poking his head out.

"Where are they? Did you see any of them, Trapper?"

"Uh, Hawkeye?"

"How many do you think there are? Do you think they're going to come down after us?"

"Hawk."

"The jeep is shitcanned. We might have to try and wait them out. If we just lay quite they'll give up, right?"

"Hawkeye!"

Hawkeye rolled over and looked down at his friend sitting in the bottom of the ditch with one holding his side as he fought to catch his breath.

"Hawkeye, we've got a problem." Trapper lifted his hand from his side and held it up for Hawkeye to see. It was covered in blood.

Hawkeye felt like someone had just kicked him in the stomach and the colour drained from his face. Sliding down the small bank into the bottom of the ditch, Hawkeye grabbed at Trapper's t-shirt. Blood spilled out onto the dirt and Trapper hissed as his shirt was pulled up to reveal a single bullet wound in his right side just above his hip.

"You've been shot."

Trapper grimaced as he pressed his hand back onto the wound. "Is that your expert opinion, Doctor? Boy, your diagnostic skills are truly amazing."

Hawkeye leapt to his feet, bounded out of the ditch and sprinted for the jeep. He made it less than ten feet before a hail storm of bullets drove him back into the ditch.

"What the hell are you doing! Are you crazy!" screamed Trapper. "You're going get yourself killed!"

Hawkeye was panting, and Trapper could see he was shaking.

"The bag," gasped Hawkeye. "Our medical bag. It's in the jeep. I've got to get it."

"That's insane."

Hawkeye gathered himself into a crouch, ready to jump out for another attempt.

"Don't worry about me, I'm an expert at avoiding gunfire. Trained back home by running away from angry fathers with shotguns."

Trapper grabbed his friend's jacket to pull him off balance.

"Who says I'm worried about you? If you go out there, you'll end up like a piece of swiss cheese and where will that leave me? I assure you, my concern is purely selfish."

For a moment the two men locked eyes. Hawkeye let out a breath that he hadn't realized that he'd been holding. Gently, he pulled Trapper's hand from his jacket, giving it a small squeeze before letting go.

Hawkeye sat flat on the dirt beside Trapper and took stock of their surroundings. Their hiding spot was a neglected irrigation ditch less than three feet deep. It was full of leaves and broken tree branches. Trapper was kneeling in a tiny tickle of water running along the bottom.

"Okay," said Hawkeye, running a hand back through his hair. "Okay."

"Okay," repeated Trapper.

"Okay. It's going to start getting dark soon. That will give me a better chance to try and sneak back to the jeep."

"That's a good plan. I like it."

Hawkeye shrugged. "I don't know it qualifies as _good_ plan, but it certainly is _a_ plan. If the army has taught me anything, it's that it's important to have a plan. The 'good' part is optional."

Trapper's snicker changed into a hiss has a stab of pain shot through him.

"Hold on, Trap." Hawkeye began stripping out of his jacket and t-shirt.

"What are you doing?"

"I need to stop the bleeding. I'm going to use my shirt as a dressing."

"That filthy thing? No way. I'll get an infection for sure."

"I don't have a lot to work with here, and I assure you, right now, it's a hell of a lot cleaner than my shorts are."

Trapper glared at Hawkeye while watching him him put his jacket back on over his bare shoulder. His side felt like it was on fire. Sweat was starting to drip down his forehead. He could feel the ditch water soaking through his pants.

"Look, Trapper," said Hawkeye. "It's true you might get an infection, but you know as well as I do that if I don't get something on the wound, you'll definitely bleed out before night fall. So there really isn't a choice, is there?"

Trapper looked at the ground and reluctantly nodded.

"Good. Now, how about you get out of that puddle. Unless you're using it to hide the fact that you've peed your pants."

Keeping their heads down, Hawkeye helped Trapper maneuver up onto the bank so he was lying on his left side with his back to Hawkeye. The snipers must have spotted some movement because a couple of gun shots rang out, but neither man felt any impacts near them.

Hawkeye tore a couple of strips from his t-shirt and folded the rest into a thick dressing.

"Okay, Trap. Are you ready?"

Trapper nodded, lifted his hand away and turned his head to watch Hawkeye. Despite everything he had seen in year of surgery, it still amazed him how much blood could come out of one tiny hole. It had soaked through his shirt and jacket and had seeped down into the top of his pants.

Hawkeye worked fast, ignoring Trappers grunt of pain has he pressed the dressing down onto the wound. His hands slipped the bandage strips around his friend's waist and tied them off with practised ease.

"How does that feel?"

Trapper didn't answer.

"Trap? Are you okay?"

Still no answer.

"Trapper!" Panic crept in Hawkeye's voice.

"I'm…just give me…a sec." Trapper took a few shallow breaths before rolling over onto his back. "I'm not enjoying this. Let's quit and go home."

"It's okay, Trapper. The sun has already started to go down. It won't be long until I can make another try for the jeep."

"And then what?"

Hawkeye felt a knot forming in his stomach. "I don't know yet. But I'll think of something."

"Please do," whispered Trapper.


	2. Chapter 2

The night breeze rattled dying leaves that clung to the stunted trees. It was early fall, and while the days were still warm, the night brought a seasonal chill. Hawkeye lay on his back beside Trapper watching the stars appear in the darkened sky. One hand held Trapper's wrist in what might have looked like a gesture of comfort, but both men knew that he was really feeling Trapper's pulse. Somehow they were both comforted anyways.

Hawkeye rolled over on to his stomach, shimmied up the bank and peeked over the edge. He could just make out the outline of the abandoned jeep thirty yards away.

"I think it's dark enough. I'm going to try and make it over to the jeep," said Hawkeye.

"Are you sure? I'd wait longer. No need to take any unnecessary risks."

Hawkeye looked down at his friend. "Unnecessary risks? Trap, there is a hole in your belly that's letting all your insides out. Getting that medical bag is an entirely necessary risk."

"I feel fine."

"You're a liar." Hawkeye slid down so his face was level with Trapper's. "I mean, look at you. You're pale, your skin is clammy, your breathing is rapid, you look sicker than the sickest dog I've ever seen. You're in shock, Trap."

"And what is in that medical bag that is going to help with that? Did I miss the meeting where we decided to start packing bags of saline in our first aid kits?"

Hawkeye had to look away from his friend. He knew that Trapper was right. The clean bandages in that bag weren't going to change their situation in any meaningful way. But his only other option was to sit and do nothing while his best friend slowly died of either blood loss, shock, or infection.

"I'm going for the bag."

"Fine. I'll hold things down here while you're gone."

Hawkeye gave him what he hoped was a reassuring pat on the shoulder and crawled back up to the lip of the ditch.

"Hawk?"

"Yeah?" Hawkeye looked down into Trapper's wide brown eyes. He could see fear in them.

"Be careful."

Trapper watched Hawkeye climb out of the ditch and listened to his footsteps retreat. Around him the night continued to get darker by the moment. There was no moon out and the stars shone with piercing brilliance. Trapper strained his ears for any sign of Hawkeye returning. He swore he had never been anywhere so quite in his life. He tried to take deep breaths to fight the rising panic in his chest. Where the snipers still out there? Maybe they had gotten tired of waiting and moved on. Or maybe they moved closer and had now captured Hawkeye.

The gunshot made Trapper nearly jump out of his skin. Frantic, he rolled over and tried to crawl up the bank.

"Hawkeye!" More gunshots rang out. "Hawkeye!"

Just as Trapper made to pull himself up out of the ditch, he heard pounding footsteps and Hawkeye tumbled in headfirst in to him knocking both of them into the bottom of the ditch.

Hawkeye pushed himself up onto his hands and knees and spit out a mouth full of dirt. "The North Koreans are still out there, in case you were wondering."

The only reply he heard was Trapper groaning and retching into the dirt.

"Are you okay, Trapper?" Hawkeye maneuvered his friend back up against the slop and kicked some dirt over the pile of vomit. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to crash into you like that. Those snipers just got me a bit too excited, you know?"

"I get it. They had me a little excited too," panted Trapper. "Are you okay? You're not shot, are you?"

"No, I'm not shot."

"Good. That's my party piece. I wouldn't want you stealing my bit."

Hawkeye pull the medic bag into his lap and began digging inside.

"I think I've found the fatal flaw in my plan to wait until dark."

"What?"

"I can't see a thing. I don't know if this is a dressing or a triangle bandage, or what. What are you doing?" Hawkeye could see Trapper fumbling with his jacket.

"In my pocket. I think I've got a lighter in my jacket pocket."

Hawkeye began digging around in Trapper's pockets. Trapper flinched when his hand brushed too close to his wound. After a lot rummaging and groping, Hawkeye found the promised lighter.

"Where did you get this? You don't normally carry a lighter."

"I won it in a poker game last night. Amazing coincidence, right?"

"What's amazing that you actually won at poker." Hawkeye flicked it on. Bullets whizzed over their heads.

"They can see the light!" said Trapper. The shots stopped the instant Hawkeye put out the lighter.

"Okay, those people are really starting to annoy me." Frustrated, Hawkeye picked up a small branch, snapped it in two, and threw the pieces further down the ditch. "What is their problem anyways? I never did anything to them. Have you done anything to them? Why couldn't they let us have one thing to make our lives easier."

A groan from Trapper brought back Hawkeye's attention.

"Okay Trapper, I'm going to hold the lighter and try and shield the light with my body. I need you to go through the bag. Do you think you can do that?"

Trapper got himself up onto one elbow. "Hand me the bag."

"Okay, here we go." Hawkeye hunched over and held the light close to his stomach. No gunshots sounded.

Trapper started pulling items out of the medic bag. "Tourniquet, shears, stethoscope. Here we go: Bandages and dressings. Looks like the bottle of rubbing alcohol got broken, but it just soaked into the bandages."

"That saves us a step then." Hawkeye pulled the supplies into his lap and flicked off the lighter. "Okay, now you're going to have to sit up and hold the light while I change your bandages."

"I don't like this idea."

"You have a better one?"

"Let's go find a bar. I could really use a belt."

"You do this for me Trap, and I'll buy you all the booze you can handle first chance I get."

"I cannot say no to such an offer." With Hawkeye's help, and several groans, Trapper got himself up into a sitting position. Just as Hawkeye had done, Trapper held the lighter down low close to his stomach and flicked it on.

Using the shears, Hawkeye cut away the t-shirt bandages and peeled back the blood-soaked dressing.

"How does it look?" asked Trapper.

"It looks fine."

"Don't lie to me."

"You're still losing blood and I think there's a little bit of inflammation in the skin around the wound. But it's hard to tell between all the blood and the bad lighting. If it is infection, the alcohol in the bandages might take care of it."

"You honestly think so?"

"I do."

Hawkeye pressed the new dressing onto the wound. Trapper let out a cry of pain and dropped the lighter.

"Trapper, hold still! I can't see!" Hawkeye pressed against the dressing with one hand and held Trapper's shoulder with the other. "What is it? What's wrong." Hawkeye felt Trapper shudder and gasp.

"The alcohol. It burns. A lot more than I thought."

"Do you think you can find the lighter?"

Trapper nodded as he tried to choke down a sob. Feeling around between his legs he came up with the lighter flicked it on with one hand. He ran the back of his other hand across his eyes. Hawkeye pretended not to notice as he tied off the new bandages.

"There. How do you feel?"

"I'm not going to lie, Hawk. Right now, I feel pretty shitty." Trapper put out the lighter and handed it to Hawkeye.

"I know, Trap. It's okay." Hawkeye squeezed his friend's shoulder.

"Hawk?"

"Yeah, Trap."

"I'm really cold."

Hawkeye thought for a moment, then moved himself in behind Trapper with his legs on either side of him. He made to wrap his arms around Trapper but was pushed away.

"I don't feel like slow dancing right now, Hawkeye."

"Come on, Trapper. You're cold to the touch. I need to get you warm and all I've got is myself."

Trapper sighed and leaned back into Hawkeye's bare chest.

"There. How does that feel? Better?" asked Hawkeye.

"Better in some ways. Worse in others."

Hawkeye couldn't help but chuckle.

"Without a doubt, this has to be the worst night of my life," said Trapper.

"Oh, I don't know. I think things are starting to look up. It's a beautiful night. I'm out under the stars. I've got a cute blond in my arms. Seems alright to me."

"I don't know how I'm ever going to tell my wife about us."

"We'll elope and send her a postcard from our honeymoon in Niagara Falls."

Trapper shifted in Hawkeye's arms.

"Ahhh, Hawk?"

"Yeah?"

"There's, ah, something, um…."

Hawkeye reached down between them and pull out a tree branch.

"It's just this stick, I swear."

"Oh, thank God," breathed Trapper.

"I bet you were impressed though."

Trapper started to laugh, then coughed and groaned.

"Please don't make me laugh. It hurts."

"I guess who ever said, 'laughter is the best medicine' obviously didn't try it on gunshot wounds."

"Hawkeye?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, Trapper."


	3. Chapter 3

Hawkeye felt Trapper move on top of him and his hips screamed with relief has the pressure on them shifted. His whole body felt stiff from laying of the cold ground. He smiled as Trapper muttered something incoherent. It had been a rough night for Trapper. Hawkeye had had a hard time holding him still as he thrashed around and talked nonsense while he dreamed.

Now, in the light of early dawn, he laid quietly on top of Hawkeye's chest. Hawkeye had his arms wrapped around Trapper's stomach and was holding on to one of his wrists, feeling the faint but steady rhythm of his pulse.

Hawkeye hated to move Trapper now that he was sleeping so peacefully, but the pressure in his bladder had been building for some time and it was starting to get unbearable.

"Trapper." Hawkeye nudged his friend. "Trapper, wakeup. I have to get up." Trapper groaned and mumbled. "Come on, Trap. I've got to piss like race horse at an ice tea festival." Hawkeye pushed up on Trapper's back to get him up into a sitting position. Gingerly, he pulled himself out from under Trapper and laid his friend back down.

Hawkeye stood up, stretched and let out a loud yawn. He looked down at his sleeping friend. Trapper looked pale and his normally cheerful face was drawn.

"I'll be right back," said Hawkeye, knowing that Trapper probably couldn't hear him. "Don't go anywhere."

Hawkeye hopped up out of the ditch and ambled over to a nearby stand of trees. He whistled tunelessly as he relieved himself. He looked around him with tired eyes. The brightening sky was clear with only a hint of a breeze.

Hawkeye turned as he did up his fly and saw their wrecked jeep. All at once he remembered the snipers and threw himself flat on the ground, hands over his head.

"You stupid, son of a—" Hawkeye yelled at himself. He waited for the inevitable gunshots and certain death. They never came. Hawkeye lifted his head and saw a small bird scratching in the dirt a few feet in front of him. It fluttered away.

Hawkeye got up onto his knees and scanned the hills where the North Koreans' had been hiding the night before.

"Hello?" he called. "Is anyone out there?" Hawkeye stood up and cupped his hands around his mouth. "Heeeeeeey!" Somewhere in the trees a bird sang.

Hawkeye trotted back to the ditch and jumped down. A groggy Trapper looked up at him.

"Where did you go? I thought I heard yelling."

Hawkeye knelt beside Trapper and helped him sit up. "I just went to get the morning paper. I'm afraid our friends from last night have left without saying goodbye."

"I'm not going to lie, I prefer it when one-night-stands leave before I get up. It avoids the awkward breakfast conversation."

"Speaking of leaving, I think it's time we got going too."

"Go? Go where?"

"What to do mean 'go where?' Home. To camp. To the good ol' 4077th. Where else would we go?"

"Hawkeye, camp has to be at least 20 miles away. I'll never be able to walk that far. In fact, I'm seriously considering whether it would be less trouble to just piss my pants rather than try and climb out of this ditch."

"Trapper, you don't have to walk all the way back to camp. Just to the nearest farm or checkpoint or whatever. From there we can send a message back to camp and they'll come get us." Hawkeye put Trapper's arm over his shoulders and grabbed him around the waist. "As for your second concern, let's try and avoid any desperate actions. At least for now."

Trapper was unsteady on his feet and Hawkeye had to half carry, half drag him up out of the ditch. They walked a few paces and Hawkeye reached over and started unbuttoning Trapper's fly.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Trapper tried to slap Hawkeye's and away.

"Trapper, you can hardly stand. You need my help."

"Like hell I do!"

"Trap, we live together in a tent, your body holds no mystery for me. Besides, I'm a doctor."

"Yeah, well I'm a doctor too. Which is how I know that if you lean me up against that tree over there I will perfectly capable of handling this by myself."

Hawkeye walked him over to the tree, made sure he was steady, then backed up a few steps and turned around. Once Trapper had finished, he took him over the jeep and set him down on the passenger seat. Even though they had only gone a few yards, Trapper was already breathing heavily.

"I'm not sure your idea to hoof it home is really such a good one, Hawk."

Hawkeye was rummaging around the Jeep for a map. "I'm open to hearing any idea you might have."

"You could leave me here."

"Except that one." Hawkeye pulled out the map and spread it out on the hood. "I absolutely refuse to consider leave you alone out here."

"But Hawkeye—"

"Not happening. We're getting out of here together if I have to carry you the whole way." Hawkeye jabbed the map with his finger. "Look, there's a checkpoint about five miles from here. The MP's will have jeep. They'll be able to take us back to camp. We'll be there before lunch."

"Just so long we don't have to eat it. I have enough nausea as it is."

Hawkeye pocketed the map and came around to pick up Trapper. "We'll take it slow. Just one step at a time."

"Don't worry about me. I bet I can go a whole 50 feet before collapsing."

Together the two men made their way down the road. Trapper leaned heavily on Hawkeye's left side with his arm draped around his shoulder. Hawkeye's left arm held onto Trapper's waste, holding him up as best he could.

"I've had to drag a lot friends home like this in my time. But I'll admit, this is the first time I've had to do it sober," said Hawkeye. "Somehow it's less enjoyable this way."

Trapper didn't reply to Hawkeye's quip. He walked with is head down, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. Hawkeye lapsed into silence. He was soon sweating, but Trapper's skin felt clammy.

The pace was slow, and they had to rest often. Every time they stopped, Hawkeye checked their progress on the map.

"Trapper, look," Hawkeye leaned over so Trapper could see the map. "We just have to make it around this last bend and then we'll be at the checkpoint. We're almost there, buddy."

Trapper's glazed eyes stared absently at the map. "I can't believe I'm going to die this young and this sober."

"You're not going to die. Come on, we've got less than 500 yards to go. You can do that, right? 500 yards? Trapper?"

Trapper didn't answer but lifted his arm back up around Hawkeye's shoulder. Hawkeye lifted him up and started down the road again. He was so eager to get to the checkpoint that more then once he almost pulled Trapper off his feet.

"Come on, Trapper. You can do it. We're almost there. Look, we're almost around the bend, just a few more feet and then we—" Hawkeye stopped short. They had come around the corner, but there was no checkpoint to be seen. "I… I don't understand. Where… where are they? There's supposed to be a checkpoint here. With a wooden gate and a couple of bored MP's with nothing better to do then hassle soldiers driving to Seoul. They're supposed to be right here."

Trapper's knees buckled. He would have fallen flat on his face if Hawkeye hadn't caught him.

"Trapper!" Hawkeye cradled his head against his shoulder. "Trapper, can you hear me?" He patted his face trying to rouse him, but Trapper was out cold. "When I said I would carry you, I didn't really intend on you taking me up on my offer."

Hawkeye turned and squinted down the road. "They must have moved the checkpoint further down the road." Hawkeye suddenly felt very tired and felt a lump raising in his throat. "Why is the army doing this to me? They send all these kids out to get shot and then they expect me to save them. But when I need their help to save my friend who's been shot, they're nowhere to be found. Why are they being such assholes?"

Hawkeye turned his attention back to Trapper. "And you. Why'd you have to go and get yourself shot? You saw all those kids go through the OR and thought it looked like fun? Just had to try it yourself?" Hawkeye lightly shook his friend. "Wake up, Trap. We can't just sit here in the middle of the road. Come on, I'm tired from lack of sleep, water, and nurses, so help me out a little. Trapper?"

Trapper wasn't breathing. Hawkeye snatched up his wrist, feeling for a pulse. He couldn't find it. He dropped the wrist and moved to the neck. Nothing.

"No! No no no no. Trapper!"

Hawkeye laid Trapper down flat, put his lips over Trapper's mouth and blew two breathing into his lungs. Sitting up, he put his hands on his friend's chest and began pumping hard.

"Damn it, Trapper! You're not going to die on me. If you die, I will never, ever forgive you."

Hawkeye gave him two more breaths then pumped again.

"You have to live. You have to. You have to live for your daughters."

Two more breaths.

"You have to live because you're going to get the Purple Heart for this and Frank Burns will absolutely destroy himself with envy."

Another two breaths.

"You have to live because… because if you die I'll die."

Trapper suddenly coughed and retched. Hawkeye's relief mixed with his terror and frustration. He couldn't keep himself from sobbing while he sat on the road holding his friend.

Two MP's lounged on the hood of their Jeep staring down the deserted stretch of road.

"Is it a machine?"

"Yes. 18."

"Is it a car?"

"No. 17."

"Do you plug it in?"

"No. 16."

"What is that coming down the road?"

"Hey, not fair. Yes or no questions only."

"No, look!"

The two sat up and watched as a figure appeared coming down the road towards them.

"Is a person?"

"I can't tell. Maybe."

"What's he carrying?"

"I don't know."

Both men slid off the jeep and grabbed their rifles. Together they walked onto the road behind their gate and watched as the figure came closer.

"Holy shit!"

"What?"

"Get the jeep!"

"What?"

"GET THE JEEP!"

Together they piled into the jeep and raced out towards the man, stopping six feet in front of him.

"Hey! Are you okay?"

"MASH 4077," croaked Hawkeye.

"What?"

"MASH 4077. Please. MASH 4077."

One of the MP came over and lifted Trapper off his shoulders.

"It's okay fella. You're going to be okay now."

Hawkeye sank down on the ground and closed his eyes.

When he opened them again he found himself staring into a pair of beautiful blue eyes.

"Margret?"

She smiled. "Welcome back Captain Pierce."

He was laying in a bed in Post Op. "How did I get here?"

"A couple of MP's brought you in a few of hours ago. You were exhausted and dehydrated, but you're going to be alright now."

Hawkeye sat up frantic. "Trapper! Where's Trapper? He got shot! Where is he?"

Major Houlihan grabbed his shoulders to keep him from jumping out of bed.

"It's okay, Captain! It's okay. Colonel Blake operated on Captain McIntyre and took the bullet out with out any problems. He's going to be just fine. Look, here he is beside you."

Hawkeye looked over at the next bed. Trapper's face was turned away, but Hawkeye could see his distinctly curly hair. Careful not to disturb him, Hawkeye reached across and took hold of Trapper's wrist. The pulse was strong and steady. He lay back down in his bed without letting go of Trapper's wrist.

 _I posted this story a couple of days ago, but I haven't had any reviews. I take this to mean that everyone thinks it's terrible. Or at least mediocre. Which I can understand. I feel like the ending is weak. However, instead of just moving on to your next read, could you please drop me a suggestion on I could improve this piece. I would be very grateful._


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